


Have Your Cake (and Eat It Too)

by showmeurteef



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Confessions, Drinking, Food, M/M, Masturbation, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Pining, Vomit Mention, clueless stubborn jaehyun in denial, cue canned audience laughter, frustrated jungwoo, irene is jaewoo's coworker, masturbating to oral sex porn, minor manipulation on jungwoo's part, past dowoo, seulgi is jaehyun's bff slash roommate, seulrene n jungwoo's lip balm r the real main characters, the bakery is called Just Desserts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-06
Updated: 2020-11-06
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:27:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26936614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/showmeurteef/pseuds/showmeurteef
Summary: it's obvious to everyone apart from jaehyun that he's pining away for his coworker at Just Desserts (aka chain bakery hell). it turns out that all it takes to bring him out of his denial are a few hideously piped buttercream roses.
Relationships: Jung Yoonoh | Jaehyun/Kim Jungwoo
Comments: 18
Kudos: 118
Collections: nct title fest 2020





	Have Your Cake (and Eat It Too)

**Author's Note:**

> prompt # NTF281 for NCT title fic fest <3
> 
> feel free to let me know if u need any additional cws or tws !

“How much trouble do you think I’d be in if I just, like, _hexed_ this batch of cookies? Sprinkled some good ol’ fashioned evil over these snickerdoodles?” Jungwoo slumps against the wall, and his flour and sugar and god-knows-what coated shoes squeak as he slides into a seated position beside Jaehyun. Jaehyun snorts.

“You’re not a witch, Jungwoo.” He stretches his legs out over the filthy floor. What’s one more stain to his crusty uniform slacks?

“I know about occult stuff...” Jungwoo grumbles, peachy pout far too pretty for the back of a goddamn chain bakery at 6:00 A.M. Jaehyun wonders if he really takes the time to apply lip gloss before his shift begins, or if the sparkly tint is, somehow, just Jungwoo. Maybe he really _is_ a witch, but his occult magic only extends to his supernaturally good looks. He wonders if his lips taste as peachy as they seem. Is Jungwoo a flavored lip balm kind of guy?

“Owning a half-empty pack of tarot cards that you stole from Doyoung’s parents’ house doesn’t count as ‘knowing about occult stuff.’” Jaehyun presses the back of his head to the wall, and stares steadily at the fluorescent lights overhead. The electrical hum sinks into him. Vision spots start to appear. Jungwoo huffs.

“Don’t bring up Doyoung,” he murmurs. 

Jaehyun tries not to blink, tries to steady his breathing. Doyoung: Jungwoo’s on again, off again boyfriend slash friend with benefits slash strictly platonic friend. This time around must’ve been more boyfriend-leaning and ended with an emotional breakup, if the tightness of Jungwoo’s voice is anything to go off of. Jungwoo swears that he’s kind of possessive —and the early-morning rants about his past relationships sure seem to confirm that claim— even though his relationship status is less consistent than Irene’s tip jar splitting. But it’s probably just a result of Doyoung’s wariness, it probably has nothing at all to do with Jungwoo not really wanting to keep Doyoung. 

Jaehyun knows better than to bring him up. He does. For Jungwoo’s sake. For his own.

“Leaving out like half a gram of batter from each scoop of cookie dough would probably upset the boss more than a hex.” 

He flexes his fingers and cracks his neck, grateful that his eyes meet Jungwoo’s laughter, rather than whatever sadness Jaehyun imagines was stuck onto his pretty face at the reckless mention of Doyoung. Jungwoo sags against Jaehyun, head slotting perfectly into the crook of his neck. Jaehyun wills the fluorescent hum to drown out his heartbeat.

“Do we _really_ have to go back to work?” he whines.

“I don’t know. Are tarot card readers making good money these days?” 

Jaehyun can feel the corners of his mouth curl up dangerously as another laugh bursts from Jungwoo’s chest, but Irene, with perfect timing as always, erupts into the kitchen just in time to save them both.

“If I have to explain our order-ahead policy to that asshole _one more time_ , I am going to _shove_ a rolling pin up— What are you two doing?” She freezes at their splayed feet. Jungwoo’s smooth and shapely legs stretch out far past Jaehyun’s own, those definitively _un_ flattering uniform slacks somehow ridiculously flattering on his figure. For a second, Jaehyun thinks about brushing the flour from Jungwoo’s thighs. Just for a second. He folds his hands in his lap.

“Sittin’,” Jungwoo replies drily.

“You don’t say.” Irene rolls her eyes. 

Jaehyun knows that Jungwoo is smiling from the way the apple of his cheek presses into his shoulder. 

“Well, you better _stop_ sittin’ because we’ve been open for five fucking minutes, and if I have to talk to _one more_ rich, snobby, can’t-read-a-fucking-cake-order-pamphlet motherfucker—”

“Yeah, yeah.” Jungwoo flaps a hand and begins to stand. Jaehyun’s hands move to help him faster than he can think, palms to push off of and fingers to steady him. “You’ll shove a rolling pin up your own ass out of raw, animalistic lust for the bourgeoisie, we heard.”

Jungwoo saunters off to the doorway, all confidence and self-satisfaction in his filthy, unflattering uniform. 

“That’s not what I meant and you _know_ it!” Irene shouts after him, “And that was _one time_ and I didn’t realize that she was such a snob until our third date—”

“See you after your break, Jaehyunnie!” Jungwoo wiggles his fingers in a funny little wave. 

Jaehyun waves back. Keeps waving until the last bits of hairnet and apron are through the door.

“You two are so disgusting,” Irene scoffs, eyes dragging over Jaehyun’s sticky and dusty form.

“It’s just, like, sugar and flour, dude. It washes right off,” Jaehyun replies flatly. He isn’t counting the minutes left of his break. He isn’t subtracting the hours of Jungwoo’s shift from his own, just to see how long they’ve got left to be together today. He isn’t.

Irene blinks down at him. Furrows her brow. Shakes her head.

“Whatever. At least you know how to bake.” She turns on her heel and walks out before Jaehyun can ask what the hell she means by that.

* * *

Jaehyun’s thighs part, shiver. Warmth fizzles in the pit of his stomach. He twists his wrist, slowly dragging his hand up the length of his dick. His breath comes too thick, too heavy through his nose.

His eyes wander to the gentle morning light fluttering in through the window. He listens for any sign of Seulgi, even though he knows it’s way too early for the other to be up and about yet. Jaehyun’s the only sorry asshole with a sleep schedule fucked up— or, rather, _un_ fucked up enough to rise when the air is still crisp and the apartment is still quiet. Maybe jerking off before most people have breakfast is an old person thing, who knows, but it suits Jaehyun just fine. He doesn’t need his quiet squelching undercut but Seulgi’s soft rock shower concert series.

Jaehyun tried to focus on the throaty, gasping noises in his earbuds. The stock creaky noises some sad porn editor put over this particular scene. Jaehyun can get into a low budget mouthfucking scene. He can.

The problem is, it’s morning, which means he’s thinking about his sleep schedule, which means he’s thinking about work. Work. At his particular slice of Just Desserts chain bakery hell. With Jungwoo.

Every time his eyes flutter shut, the wet squiggly bits of his brain automatically put two and two together; the desperate, wet groans and Jungwoo’s ridiculously beautiful face. Tiny teeth set into an _evil_ smile. Sparkly, peachy, impossible lips stretched around Jaehyun’s neck. That long, _long_ throat bulging around him.

He wonders if Jungwoo knows how good he looks taking dick down his throat, if he’d suck Jaehyun off in front of a mirror just so he could see how pretty he looks. He bets that Jungwoo knows exactly how stunning he is. He _has_ to know. How could he not?

Jaehyun’s hips jump from the mattress. His mouth gapes around a silent moan, but is quickly clamped shut. His mind wanders to Jungwoo’s laugh, to the way he grips piping bags too tightly, to his customer service voice. Maybe Jungwoo doesn’t realize the effect he has on people, on _Jaehyun_. There’s something unbearably warm settling in the pit of Jaehyun’s stomach.

Now that he thinks about it, the morning isn’t gentle or crisp or what the fuck ever. Not at all. The sun’s reddish light seeps through Jaehyun’s eyelids, and sweat’s gathering at the small of his back. He kicks the sheets off. He gasps for air.

Jaehyun snaps his eyes open with a curse. He speeds up his strokes, willing his brain to fucking _focus_ on the dude on screen, the strap in his mouth, the grainy first-person angle. This is super hot. Jaehyun can get into this— he _is_ into this.

Jungwoo’s bubbling, mocking laughter echoes inside his ears. He comes with a pathetic whine.

* * *

Jungwoo’s fingers slip off of the table one by one, pretty little nails clacking against the cheap wood as he slides out of the booth and out into the restaurant to search for the bathroom. A tiny head bobbing in a sea of family specials and buy-one-get-one drinks that are more boozy than they have any right to be in a place that also has family specials. 

“Dude.”

Jaehyun stabs at the ice in his glass with his straw. _Clink, clink, clinking_ until Jungwoo disappears behind a corner. His steps are so bouncy. His smile is so friendly. Jaehyun needs a refill.

_“Dude.”_

Jungwoo’s glass is empty, too, even though Jaehyun could’ve sworn he had been chewing on the straw more than actually using it. Catching it between his bunny teeth after each obnoxious laugh, before each hushed tidbit of gossip. Moving it to his molars with that tongue—

Jaehyun blinks and straightens his back against the booth. Would it be weird to get another drink for Jungwoo? Friends do that, right? _Just_ friends?

“Dude, do you think it would be weird if I—”

Seulgi’s eye-roll cuts him off. Jaehyun retreats into the corner of the booth, tucked beside the empty napkin holder and sticky hot sauce bottles for protection. Why the hell is she so irritated all of the sudden?

_"Dude!"_

“What?”

“I’ve been trying to get your attention for, like, _nine thousand years_ over here and you just...” Seulgi sighs and folds her hands in her lap, swivelling to make full eye contact with the cowardly Jaehyun beside her. “You need to chill out. You’re being obvious. It’s, like, embarrassing.”

“Obvious?” Jaehyun clears his throat and reaches for his glass. Finding that it’s empty— _remembering_ that it’s empty, he awkwardly moves his hands around until they find the sweat-dampened booth. Wearing shorts in a steaming hot barbecue place wasn’t his best decision, sure, but they make his ass look— 

_“Stop,”_ Seulgi hisses, swatting him with her shrink-wrapped chopsticks. _“That’s_ the shit I’m talking about. Anytime I say something even Jungwoo-adjacent —and _every_ time Jungwoo says anything at all, you get all spacey and weird with that _dreamy_ look in your eyes.”

Jazz fingers accompany the _‘dreamy.’_

“I do _not_ have a _dreamy_ look in my eyes,” Jaehyun scoffs.

“You do!” 

By some cruel twist of fate, the waitress arrives at that exact moment, and Seulgi puts on her sweetest smile, her politest tone, her kindest eyes to get the waitress’s attention. Jaehyun wants to swat Seulgi because the poor woman is just trying to do her job, but it’s far too late.

“Ma’am, wouldn’t you say he has a dreamy look in his eyes? The look of someone who has... _a crush?_ ”

Jaehyun’s face burns. He glares at the napkin holder and hot sauce for failing to protect him against such a brutal attack. The waitress laughs. Jaehyun wonders if he’s tall enough to vault up and over the other side of the booth, if he’s fast enough to sprint out of the restaurant before anyone could catch him.

“He does.”

“See!”

Seulgi looks triumphant. Their afternoon flea market shopping spree must’ve gone on longer than Jaehyun thought because his cheeks feel _sunburnt_. He needs to invest in high quality sunscreen. 

“I’m not...” Jaehyun reaches for his glass, again, but thinks better of it. The waiter darts away to get the rest of their orders, so he continues, venom seeping into his tone, “I do not have _a crush_. I _hate_ you. You mean less to me than the wads of old gum stuck beneath this table, you—”

“This should be the rest of it,” the waitress chirps and places the last of their sides onto the table. She gestures to Jaehyun and Jungwoo’s empty glasses. “You want any refills?”  
“Yes, please. Both, if you don’t mind,” Jaehyun replies, smiles, and hands over the glasses before he can think better of it. 

“Why don’t you just tell Jungwoo how you feel?” Seulgi asks, voice suddenly going all sincere.

Jaehyun wants to scream, but he opts for grabbing the tongs and arranging the meat along the grill instead. It sizzles. It hisses. The steam and smoke make Jaehyun’s head spin.

“I can’t.”

_“Why?"_

“He’s... We’re...” Jaehyun doesn’t dare to look at Seulgi. “Friends. It’s fine the way we are now.”

The restaurant is getting rowdier by the minute. They really shouldn’t serve so much booze, so cheaply at a place sandwiched between a pet supply store and another branch of Just Desserts. Not a good mix. Jaehyun’s stomach twists. Thoughts of his workplace, his coworkers, a _certain_ coworker don’t mix well with plentiful, cheap liquor either.

“Can’t have your cake, and all that,” Jaehyun sighs. Seulgi frowns at him, chewing absently on a perilla leaf. She should know better than to bring this up. For Jaehyun’s sake. 

“You literally work at a bakery, though.” She widens her eyes expectantly, but frowns when Jaehyun fails to laugh. “Plus—”

“What’s this I hear about bakeries? Were you two gossiping about Irene without _me?_ ” Jungwoo plops back into his seat, bouncy and giddy at the mention of his favorite topic of conversation. Yet again, Jaehyun smiles before he can think better of it.

“Yeah, Jaehyun caught her with that same Chanel-sunglasses-wearing motherfucker in the loading bay again.”

“If she got a sugar mommy to free her from the torment of Just Desserts, I’m gonna be pissed. I’m _way_ hotter than she is,” Jungwoo quips. 

Jaehyun laughs louder than he should, head going bubbly at the way Jungwoo bounces in his seat and flicks his eyes between Seulgi and Jaehyun, egged on by the reaction.

“I’m gonna have to disagree with you there.” Seulgi shoots Jaehyun a weary look. Jaehyun plucks a napkin from its holder to clench in his fist.

The waitress returns, slides their drinks into place, and parts with an oh-so-friendly reassurance from Seulgi that they’ll call her if they need anything else— not, of fucking course, before the waitress pointedly glances between Jaehyun and Jungwoo. Jaehyun’s clammy hand eats away at the napkin.

“You got me a refill?” Jungwoo’s eyes widen, as if genuinely flattered. 

“Yeah. It was no big deal,” Jaehyun replies, suspecting that it was, in fact, a big deal.

* * *

“Happy birthday!” Jaehyun slides the boxed cake over the counter with a genuine smile for the kid, a toothy grimace for their asshole dad. _When_ have they _ever_ offered coupons for custom cakes? And who the hell talks to their wife like _that_ over the phone over a goddamn shortcake order? Bastard.

The _ding_ of the register slices through the _ding_ of the door opening for the bastard and his kid. Briefly, Jaehyun considers tearing the asshole dad’s unwanted receipt apart and stuffing the halves into his ears.

 _"Jaehyun, we need you! ”_ Irene calls from the back.

“I’m busy.” Jaehyun leans against the counter, definitely mere moments from erupting into hysterics over how sore his fucking feet are. Would corporate go bankrupt over a single goddamn chair? He deadpans, “And sad.”

The door cracks open around Jungwoo’s face. Chin tilted downward. Eyes glassy. _Pouting_.

Jaehyun wills every last ounce of strength he’s got left to drip into his feet.

“I _still_ don’t get how you make the roses,” Jungwoo whines with an inhumanly powerful pout and forces Jaehyun to relocate his stare to the indent on Jungwoo’s forehead. His hairnet’s riding up. What he wouldn’t give to ever-so-gently slide the elastic back down, tuck it behind his ears, and ensure every last strand of cinnamon hair is safely hidden away.

“He’s _hopeless_ ,” Irene shouts.

“It’s cool. I’ll show you again.” Jaehyun tries to make up for his awkwardly thick voice with a laugh. 

Jungwoo’s eyes light up as if Jaehyun had just offered him a diamond ring, rather than some buttercream piping tips. He disappears into the kitchen, and Jaehyun struggles to keep his pace slow and measured as he follows after him. He must’ve willed a little too much strength into his feet because they want him to _chase_ after Jungwoo.

Irene unceremoniously dumps her piping bag in Jaehyun’s hands as soon as he enters, and darts off to clean the display cases. Jungwoo is already standing on the work table, piping bag in hand, gesturing desperately at his cake decoration attempt. Jaehyun laughs.

“You kinda _are_ hopeless.”

The white base frosting is fine, passable, maybe even decent. Smooth enough to write a custom message over, anyhow. But the _roses_...

“Your roses look like wads of chewed bubblegum,” Jaehyun sighs, thinking of Seulgi.

“That were then scooped back up, chewed again, _swallowed_ , and then retched all over the cake. I know,” Jungwoo grumbles. The indent in his forehead is less pink now. Slowly, slowly disappearing. Smoothing back into the rest of his flawless, doughy, slightly sweat-sheened face. 

Jaehyun trains his eyes back onto the disastrous cake. 

“Let’s just...” Jaehyun slides into place beside Jungwoo —not too close, _certainly_ not touching— and grabs a palette knife from the mess of tools scattered over the table, quickly scooping the attempted roses away and plopping the icing back into its bowl. His hands itch with the weight of Jungwoo’s doe eyes. He shuffles his feet. Clears his throat.

“You should hold the bag like this.” Jaehyun holds the twisted end in his right hand, then curls his left hand around the tip, and looks up into Jungwoo’s eyes. He remembers to breathe. Easy. “Guide the bag with your left hand, and squeeze with the right. Got it?”

“Got it.” 

“You start from the center, and _slowly_ work your way outwards, with the angle of the bag above the cake getting tighter as you go.” Jaehyun pushes his words through a professional, instructional filter. Measured and even. He’s just teaching a fellow coworker how to pipe buttercream roses on a shitty grocery store cake. That’s all.

Jungwoo’s gaze slips down, down the length of the piping bag and lingers at his hands. Jaehyun can _feel_ it. 

He squeezes out a little nub of pink frosting at the corner of the cake, and follows it with a few petals. He’s done this a thousand times. There’s no reason why his chest should feel so tight.

“You have to be careful to keep the petals rounded, and to make sure they don’t fall flat. But it’s easier if you’re gentle with it.”

“Gentle.”

Jaehyun’s gaze darts up to Jungwoo’s face. Jungwoo furrows his brow as his tongue darts out to his bottom lip. Jaehyun forgets to breathe.

Quickly, he returns to the frosting. Squishing from the top, small rounded motions from the bottom. The faint, airy noises of the frosting pushing through the bag seem to echo throughout the kitchen. Jaehyun hopes they’re loud enough to drown out his tight breathing.

“And the leaves are the easiest part,” he murmurs, grabbing the green frosting from the counter. He _doesn’t_ look at Jungwoo. Doesn’t notice how wide, how eager Jungwoo’s stare is. “You wiggle your wrist a little to get the shape, and then just do a quick flick at the end to make a pointed tip.”

“Wiggle and flick.”

Jungwoo’s eyes drag up from Jaehyun’s hands. He blinks. Jaehyun blinks.

“Can I try?”

“Yeah. Right, of course. Yes.” Jaehyun places the bags in Jungwoo’s waiting hands. 

Jungwoo is gentle, _too_ gentle with the piping bag— Jaehyun might call it hesitant, but this _is_ the same guy who just nearly ruined an entire cake with his careless, messy roses. So, why are his fingers moving so _slowly_ down the piping bag, pushing the frosting towards the tip with all that delicate finesse? Doe eyes narrowed and peachy lips parted?

The wet crinkle of the bag stuffs Jaehyun’s ears. Pushing, _pushing._ The ginger touches of Jungwoo’s fingers are somehow so heavy. The frosting rose comes to a finish with a perfect wiggle and flick, the quick, skilled motions somehow _teasing._

For a second too long, Jaehyun doesn’t wrestle the next instruction from the gloopy, sugary mess in his head and, _fuck_ , Jungwoo _notices_.

Jungwoo _notices_ his stunned silence and he _smiles._ Head tilting, fluttering his lashes in time with Jaehyun’s heartbeat.

“The... You’re actually? I don’t understand...” Jaehyun rubs the back of his neck. He’d take that bastard dad over this, would rather give the guy discount code after coupon after free goddamn home delivery over _this_. Jungwoo’s pouting again, but the expression is nothing like the one before. It’s _sympathetic,_ so sympathetic that it’s almost _mean._ And, then, his eyebrows shoot straight up to the faint indent on his forehead and he rolls his eyes and he laughs and—

“Use your words.”

Jaehyun grips the table, fingers landing in spilled frosting.

“It’s... You’re good at piping the roses? So why did you need my...” Jaehyun tries to focus on the fluorescents, but his eyes keep sneaking back to Jungwoo. He’s _just_ surprised by the unexpected piping skills. That’s all he’s feeling.

“The _roses?_ You’ve _got_ to be kidding me.” Jungwoo sighs, amusement lingering on his features. “The cake, Jaehyun? Really?”

Jaehyun can only nod, frosting squishing audibly beneath his fingertips.

“Making a simple frosting rose isn’t that hard, Jaehyun. I’ve worked here for _months_.” Jungwoo exhales deeply. The piping bag crinkles in his grip, and it’s so goddamn _loud_ all of the sudden. Jaehyun winces, every counted and cherished day they’ve spent coated in flour together hitting his chest like so many fists.

“Yeah...?”

“You do realize that I could’ve just asked for Irene’s help, right? Like, you’re not some sort of master patissier, professor, what the fuck culinary school ever.”

The fluorescent lights sting Jaehyun’s eyes. He blinks. Blinks again.

Jungwoo’s lips are really, really glossy today.

“Doyoung...?”

“We _broke up.”_ Jungwoo’s amusement is trickling away, his pretty fingers tighten around the piping bag and his eyes sharpen. “Why do you think I’ve been coming to _you_ with my relationship problems all this time? Me and my ‘woe is me, poor me, won’t you _help_ me, Jaehyunnie’ eyes?”

Jaehyun swallows thickly. A word forms on the tip of his tongue. His lips part. He has no idea what he’s about to say, but he’s about to say _something,_ and— 

The piping bag bursts. Pink splatters over the table, the cake, their ugly uniform shirts. Jungwoo makes a wild, guttural noise —too frustrated and too urgent for a response to some spilled frosting— before tossing the bag to the ground and grabbing Jaehyun’s shirtfront in his gloopy hands.

Jaehyun holds his breath. Unable to think about how Jungwoo’s close enough that his breath tickles Jaehyun’s nose. Unable to think about how Jungwoo is bunching up his shirt, roughly tugging him forward, close enough to share a gasp, to— 

Jungwoo’s lips press against his own. 

“Peach. Your lip balm, it’s—”

“Shut _up,_ Jaehyun.”

A sticky hand grabs the back of his neck, buttercream squishing through his hairnet and fingernails pricking his skin, and silences him with a kiss that’s all breathless frustration, all irritated teeth. Jaehyun smiles. Slips his tongue past the artificial fruit flavor and pillowy warmth. Jungwoo’s mouth is so _wet_ , and his breaths are so _heavy_. The table bites into Jaehyun’s thighs. Laughter tickles his insides.

He can’t help it. Can’t think through the process of stopping it. He laughs against Jungwoo’s peach-flavored lips.

“You’re _laughing?”_

“Sorry, it’s just—” Jaehyun nearly hiccups at the way Jungwoo’s eyes are blown wide with such confusion and frustration and, of all things, _want_. Looking at Jaehyun _wantingly_. “I’m so...”

“Yeah. You are.” Jungwoo’s firm grip and wild expression buckle around his returned laughter. 

Jaehyun’s fingers knit themselves up at the back of Jungwoo’s neck. His tired feet gather the strength to shuffle forward. Closer, closer.

Irene bursts through the door clutching a cake box. 

“If you two don’t hurry up and—” She stops short, and her gaze lingers in the centimeters of air between them. Her fingers tighten around the box.

Jaehyun can’t believe it. Can’t believe that all she sees is the air and the frosting and the tiniest touches. He glances at Jungwoo, eyes twinkling as if they share some big secret.

“Uh... Do you two want this cake? I know we’re supposed to just toss cancelled orders out, but...”

“Sure, sure,” Jungwoo replies, his eyes lingering on Jaehyun’s lips, now coated in Jungwoo’s own lip balm.

“And...” Jaehyun inhales deeply. Sugary sincerity bursting from his mouth before he can think better of it, “And we’ll eat it, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> thanks so much to the fest mods for working hard to make this fest happen <33 it was rlly nice to try smth new for nct fics so please let me know what u thought !! kudos n comments = various magic supplies so jungwoo can follow his occult dreams
> 
> u can find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/showmeurteef) or [cc](https://curiouscat.me/showmeurteef)


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